


Fighting

by ChokolatteJedi



Category: House M.D.
Genre: Beds, Birthday, Community: 1_million_words, Community: hc_bingo, Fights, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pain, Prompt Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-16
Updated: 2013-07-16
Packaged: 2017-12-20 11:09:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/886554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChokolatteJedi/pseuds/ChokolatteJedi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>House has the blues</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fighting

**Author's Note:**

> For the 1 Million Words Haldoor's Birthday Challenge, and the Torrid Tuesday Challenge, with the prompt "Make up sex." Also for my H/C Bingo table, with the prompt, "Fighting."
> 
> I apologize that this ended up a little less torrid than I planned, but the boys weren't being cooperative. I hope you enjoy it anyway!

House sighed as he sank into his desk chair. His leg had been bothering him more than usual the last few days, and he refused to think that it had anything to do with his current fight with Wilson. It was simply the weather, or the fact that Evil Nurse Brenda had placed his patient in the furthest room from the elevator possible, so he had to walk more to spy on his ducklings. He contemplated popping another Vicodin, but he was close to his limit for the day, and he knew he'd need a dose to get home and another to sleep, so he left the bottle in his pocket.

Needing to do something to occupy his mind, House grabbed his bouncy ball. The rhythmic thudding of it against the ceiling would help distract his mind, and he might finally figure out what was wrong with their patient. She was blue, and the obvious causes - paint, dye, low O2 sat - had all been ruled out, so the ducklings were running tests. Orange was easy, but blue was a new one for him. He still had his money on prank, but the girl was the daughter of a donor, so Cuddy had taken a personal interest in her pigmentation problem.

After about an hour, bouncing the ball became tedious, and his leg was still aching, so House decided to leave early. Writing "Don't call me" on the symptom board, he now popped two Vicodin into his mouth and then limped down to his car. Normally, in the summer, he would have ridden his motorcycle, but with the way his leg had been aching, it hadn't seemed like a good idea the last few mornings.

His apartment was dark, and lonely, and House debated simply sleeping on the couch rather than trying to make it all the way to the bedroom. Another twinge from his leg decided him; the couch was closer, but the bed was far more comfortable, and he had left the pile of pillows from last night in place. Slowly, breathing harshly, House stumbled through his house until he was able to sink down onto his bed.

One of these days, he thought for the billionth time, he was going to get one of those beds that had different firmnesses on different sides. After leaning on the cane all day, his back really needed the firmness, but when he leg was doing badly, it was nice to have something very soft beneath it. But going to the store was a hassle, and he didn't think about it when he was feeling less pain, so it never happened. Instead, he piled the pillows up high, dealt with the odd cant of his hips, and tried to sleep.

o)(o

Two days had passed, and they had rejected Raynaud's Phenomenon, Frostbite, and CREST Syndrome before realizing that the girl had a neurohormonal imbalance due to stress. Apparently being daddy's little overachiever had been too much for this teen to handle. Cameron had written her a prescription for happy pills and House had merrily sent Cuddy away. Without a patient, and with his ducklings forced to make up clinic hours this afternoon, it should have been the perfect time for House to skive off early and enjoy himself. And yet, he sat in his office, staring blankly out the window at the gorgeous afternoon.

He wanted to go home, grab his bike, and go for a drive in the sun, but his leg was still bothering him. Going for a drive in the car wasn't the same, and House lamented the fact that he hadn't gotten a convertible when he had the chance. However, Wilson had made a list of the reasons such a car was impractical, and House had caved.

No, he didn't want to think about Wilson right now. Didn't want to think about the fact that it had been almost a week since they had talked, and even longer since they had kissed. Wilson hadn't been home in a week, and it was killing him even more than his leg was.

Not that the one had anything to do with the other, House assured himself. That was the kind of touchy-feely thinking that Cameron and Wilson indulged in, not him. Still, he avoided looking at Wilson's office as he packed his bag and slipped down the hall. Today, of all days, he didn't want to go home to his empty apartment, but Wilson's anger left him no choice. After successfully sneaking past Cuddy's office, House climbed into his car and headed home.

o)(o

As he opened the door to his apartment, House was surprised to smell pot roast cooking, and for a moment he thought he imagined it. But no, it was real, as were the sound of classical music playing and the sight of Wilson standing in the kitchen, smiling wanly at him. "What?" he asked dumbly, freezing in the doorway.

"Go ahead and put your stuff down," Wilson said quietly, nodding towards the bedroom.

Befuddled, House obeyed, unconsciously trying to minimize his limp. No need to let Wilson know how badly he was doing. In their bedroom, he stopped cold. There, on his bed, was a new mattress. It was thicker than the old one, and two controls snaked out from under the covers.

"I know you've been wanting one for a while," Wilson said from behind him.

House grinned. Yes, he had, and yes, he hoped that it would make his leg feel better, but now House had a better idea. Of course, it was the same idea he had whenever Wilson was in the bedroom.

"We still need to talk, but that can wait until Monday." Wilson wrapped his arms around House's waist from behind. "For now, happy birthday."

Leaning back into those warm, familiar, arms, House sighed contentedly. In a few minutes they would have his favorite pot roast for dinner. And later, despite his leg, they would have amazing make up sex. And then, on Monday, they would have to deal with the root of the fight. But for now, he just enjoyed the feeling of being back in James' arms, where he belonged.


End file.
